“Mrs. Cârstea… traces of strong sleeping medications were found in the water. Small doses, but constant. If you had continued to consume them, your body would have gradually weakened… until a simple cold could have become fatal.”
I felt my breath catch. I froze in my chair. A single thought echoed in my ears: he wanted to put me to sleep forever.
I thanked the doctor and left trembling. In the parking lot, my hands were as cold as ice, but my mind was clear. I had to find out why.
When I got home, Emil was in the kitchen, as usual, wearing an apron, preparing breakfast. He smiled, calm, as if the world was perfect. He looked at me with those soothing green eyes that once brought me peace, and now sent shivers down my spine.
“How do you feel, my love?” he asked.
“Better,” I said, forcing a smile. “I think your tea did me good.”
I saw a strange spark in his gaze, a mix of satisfaction and control. In that moment, I understood that I was no longer safe under the same roof.
I began to act. I smiled, praised him, caressed his cheek, but inside me, a storm was brewing. For several days, I gathered documents, property deeds, and transferred my savings to a new account. One evening, I told him I was going to the seaside for a “yoga retreat for women over 50.” He seemed delighted — he didn’t even know I was leaving for good.
I packed a few clothes in a bag and left. I didn’t look back.
I went to the police with the lab evidence, but they told me that without clear proof of his intent, the case would be hard to prove. They advised me to stay away and secure my belongings. So I did. I sold the villa at the seaside and bought a small house in a quiet village near Piatra Neamț.
The first months were tough. I would wake up at night scared, thinking I heard footsteps on the porch. One day, I received an envelope. No return address. Inside — a photograph of me and Emil, taken secretly, in the yard of my new house. On the back, it simply said: “I miss you, my girl.”
My blood ran cold.
I went back to the police. This time, they took me seriously. They installed surveillance cameras around the house and recommended that I not go out alone. For two weeks, nothing happened. Then, one night, the cameras captured a silhouette in the yard — a hooded man approaching the window with a small bottle in hand.
He was caught that same night. Emil. He had several vials of medication, a syringe, and a suitcase full of clothes in his car.
When they took him to the station, all he said was: “I just wanted to put her to sleep. I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving me.”
I cried. Not out of fear, but out of pity. Because his sick love had never been love — it was an obsession.
Today, two years have passed. I live peacefully, drink my tea without fear, and watch the sunsets from my little yard. I have learned that it is not age that makes you vulnerable, but the desire to be loved at any cost.
And that sometimes, true peace is not found in someone else’s arms — but in the strength to rise and move on, even after your heart has been betrayed.
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